


Decidedly Pie-Like

by tcwordsmith



Series: Disasters Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Asexual Character, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't have to try every flavor to decide that cake is not at all like pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decidedly Pie-Like

In the end, they don’t try everything. They don’t even try most things.

“As you once astutely pointed out, Dean, you don’t have to try every flavor of cake to know it’s all too spongy and not at all pie-like,” Cas grits out from his place scrunched up in the corner of the couch.  He reaches out and snags one of the pillows and proceeds to hold it tight enough that Dean winces.

“Okay, okay,” Dean stops pacing and holds his hands up, “I—Sex isn’t pie for you?”

Cas shakes his head, “Sex isn’t pie for me.”

“You don’t like sex,” Meg says blandly.  She faces Cas from her end of the couch and crosses her legs.  “Like, at all? Even a little?”

“Right, exactly,” Cas nods vigorously, “Not even—well. I like kissing? And I like when we watch movies together on the couch. And I like when we use our tongues for kissing.” He twists the pillow and chews on his lip. “Those things are pie, but sex is very much cake.”

Meg nods and reaches out to tug Dean down onto the couch, “And cake is bad. We get it, Wings, right Deano?”

“R-right, you don’t like sex, but you uh—you like other stuff. That’s not sex. Other stuff is pie,” Dean tilts his head back to look at Meg and then flashes a smile at Cas.

Cas squeezes the pillow tighter and watches both of them.  He’s pretty sure he’s not conveying the situation properly.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam calls from the library, “I think this—it looks like ancient Sumerian, you gotta sec?”

Dean huffs out a breath and waves his hand.  Meg rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Sam, I have several seconds,” Cas calls back, untwisting the pillow and dropping it on the couch again. “I—we—I’ll be back.”

“Take your time, Wings,” Meg waves him off.

“Thought you could use a break,” Sam says when Cas walks into the library.

Cas squints at him, “So…You don’t have an ancient Sumerian text for me to translate?”  He sits at the chair across from Sam.

“Well,” Sam looks at the books spread over the table, “I mean, I do, but.  Are you okay?  Not that I was eavesdropping, it’s just that the sound kinda carries in here,” he fixes Cas with a deeply concerned stare.

“I am—finding it difficult to convey what it is I desire from your brother and Meg,” Cas twists a pen between his hands.

Sam gently takes it from him and tosses him a stress ball he keeps on the table, “Yeah?  Coming out isn’t ever easy, man.  And it’s not like either of them is all that familiar with asexuality.”

“Asexuality?” Cas asks, “Angels _do_ reproduce asexually but—”

Sam holds up his hands, “No—I mean, yeah, that…No, but look, okay?  Asexuality is when you don’t really _sexually_ desire people.  You could romantically desire them, like you seem to with Dean and Meg, without actually wanting to fuck either of them.”

Cas nods, “That makes a lot of sense.  I mean, that’s exactly it.  I care deeply for both of them but sex holds no appeal for me. De—despite being the only inhabitant of this vessel now, I still do not inhabit it as fully as a human soul inhabits a body.  Souls were _made_ for bodies; it’s why humans work and why demons find it so easy to possess a human vessel.  If they didn’t, they might possess anything living.”

“You mean, like that one story where Jesus cast a legion of demons into a herd of pigs?”  Sam asks.

“I—Christ was a remarkable individual who did many amazing things in his time on his Father’s world,” Cas says.

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Did you…?”

“Yes, I walked with the Christ child a ways.  I was one of his guardians, and he one of my dearest friends,” Cas admits.  He blinks and looks down at his hand where he’s accidentally popped the stress ball.

“Well, look, if you want some articles or something to show them, we can look for stuff,” Sam offers, tactfully changing the subject and pushing the wastebasket toward Cas with one foot.

“Thank you, Sam, I would appreciate that,” Cas says.

Sam smiles and slides a tome over to Cas, “You translate, I’ll research those sites for you.”

“Excellent,” Cas cracks a smile.

“Well _fuck_ you _,_ Winchester _,_ ” Meg glares at Dean.  She gets her hands on his shoulders and shoves him back onto the bed.

Dean laughs when he hits the mattress and narrowly avoids the headboard, “Workin’ on it, bitch.” He coughs a moment later when she drops heavily onto his hips.

Meg grabs his chin in her hand and just squeezes for a minute, “See, I get the feeling you don’t mean that with all the love in your heart, Deano.  So here’s the deal, you wanna keep these?” She reaches down with her free hand and grabs his crotch through his jeans, “Outside a jar, anyway? You don’t call me that. Not in here, not out there, not anywhere ever again.”

He tries to wrench his jaw away from her grip and fails. “Just nod, pretty boy; I’ll get the gist,” Meg smiles sweetly and moves his head so she can look him in the eyes.  Dean nods once. “Good, glad we’re on the same page there, champ,” Meg lets go of his balls and reaches for the zipper on his pants.  “Proud of you, Deano, makin’ the mature choice.  Besides, I like your bits right where they are; harder to use when they’re in a jar.”

“Like you wouldn’t try,” Dean lifts himself off the bed some and reaches for her shirt, “’Sides, you coulda just asked.”

She strips his shirt off of him and leans in close, “Now you know to take my requests seriously.  Keep up, Deano. We’re doin’ carrot and stick.  You just got the stick,” Meg kisses him and bites his lip, “And now you get the carrot.”  She leans back and lets him take her shirt off before sliding down him and pulling his jeans off as she goes.

“Big fuckin’ fan of the carrot right about now,” Dean mutters, trying to toe off his boots and failing.

Meg lets go of his jeans when they get to his ankles, running her hand up his leg and inner thigh as she makes her way back up to kiss him again. “Goin’ commando? Aw, was it laundry day? Don’t worry about it, Quick Draw,” she laughs against his jaw and gets to work biting and sucking along his neck.

“Fuck you, that was like, once, when I was _fourteen_ ,” Dean groans and reaches his hands around her back to unhook her bra.  He manages to get it off in one go, only to find that Meg’s already slipped out of her jeans. “Sometimes—sometimes ya gotta let it all hang out. God damn it,” he curses and gets his hands on her waist, trying to flip them, but falters with his legs still tangled in his jeans.

“Not that I _need_ to hobble you to get the upper hand or anything,” Meg murmurs, licking up his jaw and biting his earlobe, “But I gotta admit, watching you struggle? Almost like old times, huh?”

Dean growls and manages to flip them over this time, Meg bouncing hard on the mattress when they land. “Fuckin’ _don’t_ talk about that shit,” he demands, taking both of her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her, “Leave ‘em there.”

“Make it worth my time,” she spits, already trying to break his grip. Dean presses her wrists into the bed harder and leans down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and biting harder than strictly necessary. 

He uses his other hand to anchor her hip to the bed and releases her wrists.  After he rolls the nipple between his teeth and sucks on it for good measure, he moves to the other one and repeats the process.  Then he bites and kisses his way down her torso, using his other hand to drag her panties down past her knees. “You’re a goddamned nightmare, you know that?” He mutters against her inner thigh before sucking a bruise into the spot.

“Yeah? Well you’re no fucking rainbow yourself, sweet cheeks,” Meg thumps a fist against the mattress and grabs a handful of Dean’s hair. “ _Please me_ or I’ll please myself. An’ you won’t like that so much,” she pulls his head toward her cunt.

Dean parts her lips and licks a broad stripe up her cunt, sucking her clit into his mouth and tonguing it before licking into her.  Meg smirks, leaning back against the headboard but doesn’t loosen her grip on his head.  He keeps licking and sucking and gets two fingers into her, pressing and rubbing until she moans.  She drapes her legs over his shoulders and her knees squeeze the sides of his head.

“Fuckin’ hell, Deano,” Meg bites her lip and tries to pull him closer.  Dean grins against her and redoubles his efforts, adding a third finger.  She cries out a few minutes later and he eagerly laps up her come. “Okay, okay,” she pulls his head back, “Shit.” He smirks, face covered in her come, and she rolls her eyes, “Well, are you gonna get the fuck up here or not?” When he lazily thrusts his fingers in and out a few more times, Meg growls, dropping her legs to either side of him, and starts to pull him up her body by his hair.

“Shit, fuck,” Dean pulls his hand out of her cunt and slams both of his hands on the mattress, “I’m comin’; demanding much?” He presses kisses along her torso and plays with one of her nipples as he moves up her body.

“Any post-orgasm gratitude I might _potentially_ feel is waning fast, Winchester.  I got what I want, you don’t have to get yours too,” Meg reminds him, gripping his hair at the base of his skull and kissing him roughly.  He tries to take control of the kiss, but she doesn’t let him, wrapping her legs around his waist and flipping them over before he can steady himself.  The buckle on his belt jangles against the top button on his jeans and she smirks.

Dean stretches and tries to torque himself to get out from under her, but Meg holds tight to his waist. “God _damn_ it, Meg,” he grunts.  She scratches her nails up his sides and twists both of his nipples roughly.

“Pretty sure Cas doesn’t like it when you bring up his daddy during sex,” she coos, reaching down to stroke his cock once, twice before guiding it into her cunt. “ _Fuck_ , but I don’t mind so much,” she grits out, “Damn, Ace—is your soul actually _modest_ about your dick size?  I don’t remember it being, shit, quite this big.” Meg twists her hips and Dean groans.

“W-what c’n I say? I’m a humble pie kinda guy,” he grins tightly and gets his hands on her hips.

Meg pulls up and pushes back down, finding a rhythm quickly. “Got part of that right at least,” she mutters, reaching down to pinch an inch on his stomach, “Gotta little pie paunch goin’ on here, Deano.” When he looks like he’s going to complain, she twists again and leans down to bite a bruise into his neck, “Relax, princess. It’s not the end of the fuckin’ world.  We did that a few times already.”

Dean tightens his grip on her hips and thrusts up, hard, countering her rhythm, “D’you ever shut up? You fuckin’ talk too much.” Meg just laughs.

“One of my many special talents,” she agrees, getting both of her hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushing down.  “Mm, fuck, Winchester.  I didn’t know you bruised so easy,” Meg says, eying the bruises blooming on his jaw from where she held it earlier.

“Don’t.  Y-you just don’t know your own strength or somethin’, She-Hulk,” Dean insists, clenching and unclenching his hands on her waist as he feels his own orgasm building.

She slows down and squeezes his shoulders, “Hey, fuck face, I don’t come again, you don’t come at all.”

Dean smacks his head against the pillow and groans, “If you’d fuckin’ let me up, I could fix that.”

“You can fix it from down there, besides, I like this angle on your pretty face,” Meg says, almost conversationally.  She tilts her hips and groans when Dean angles his thrusts more, “S-shit, Winchester.”

“C’mon, Masters,” he grunts, thrusting as hard and deep as he can from his position.

Meg gasps and grinds her cunt against his pelvis, “ _You_ c’mon, Winchester,” she moans, her second orgasm building faster and washing over her quickly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean manages, gripping her hips tighter as her cunt squeezes his cock and he lets loose. “Shit, _fuck_ , Meg,” he huffs out, his grip loosening as her hands let up on his shoulders.

“Yeah, what you said, champ,” Meg nods and lets his cock slide out of her as she drops onto the bed next to him, patting his cheek with one hand.  Dean half heartedly tries to kick off his boots again before giving up and hauling himself up to untie them and toss them and his jeans across the room.

Meg lets the silence be for a few minutes before rolling over and fishing a pack of cigarettes out of her discarded jeans, “So…Castiel doesn’t like sex. And we do. Clearly.” She lights two with a snap of her fingers and sticks one in Dean’s mouth.

Dean raises an eyebrow but takes a drag from the cigarette and plucks it out of his mouth before exhaling, “I don’t get it. I mean, I get it—kinda—and I’m trying, but it’s complicated and complicated shit makes me _itchy_ ,” Dean sighs and flops back against the mattress.  “Maybe I can handle bein’ with him with no sex…Or maybe I should get out before I hurt ‘im,” he mutters.

“What about before you hurt _me_ , you utter shit stick? One, I’m with him too, and two, we’re clearly currently fucking,” Meg runs a hand through her hair and lets it tumble loose, blowing out a frustrated breath, “I am not gonna take part in crybaby hour, Benny’s the one who gives a shit about your fee-fees. An’, if you wanna do sleepovers and braid each other’s hair go wake up the mountain man down the hall.  I think he might cry tears of joy. But, look, we gotta good thing goin’ here. Cas cuddles everyone, you and I fuck it out.  Monogamy’s overrated anyway.”

“Yeah, well, you would think that,” Dean huffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the headboard, “S’not like you’ve got a soul mate out there anyway—what with having no soul an’ all.”

“You fuckwit. What do you think demons are _made of_? All I am is soul.  I’ve got a soul, you’ve got a soul—the only one here _without a soul_ , is dear Clarence.  An’ mine isn’t that much more twisty and dark than yours is, fuck face,” Meg rolls over and twists one of Dean’s nipples hard. He yelps and smacks at her hand, but she just holds on tighter.  Point, and a new bruise, made, she lets up and mutters, “We were in the same pit, learning the same lessons at the other end of Alastair’s favorite razor. No soul, I’ll show you no soul. Fuckin’ _Moose_ has less soul than I do.”

Dean just grunts and rubs at his chest. “Yeah, well, Sammy got his soul back.  Death made sure’a that.”

“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice how fuckin’ _chummy_ you’ve been gettin’ with the goddamned big daddy grim reaper, Deano,” Meg rolls her eyes and snaps up an ashtray for them, balancing it on Dean’s stomach.  “Just remember that asshole plays for keepsies more than Lucifer ever did.”

He sighs and ashes into the tray, “Yeah, yeah.  Sam thinks he might have a soft spot for me or somethin’.”

“The only time that dude gets a soft spot is when he’s about to take on an apprentice. You don’t wanna be Death’s bitch boy, okay?  You’re practically half demon and the closes we come to messing with the afterlife is indiscriminately killing—an’ you got that down pat, baby,” Meg ashes her cigarette and stubs out the butt of it. “Castiel, we can hear you skulkin’ out there, you might as well come on in. Wouldn’t want you to miss the whole party.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow when the door to his room opens slowly, “Cas, you were out there?”

“I was only passing by on my way to get a glass of water,” Cas insists, defensively holding his glass in front of himself, “And I—couldn’t help but overhear on my way back.  I was going on to my own room.”

Meg scoots one way on the bed and shoves Dean the other, “C’mon on, Clarence.  The more the merrier or some shit.”

Dean shoots Cas a small grin and pats the bed between him and Meg, “Yeah, c’mon.”  Cas sets his glas down on the desk and crawls up the bed between them.

“Gonna have t’get a bigger bed, Deano,” Meg observes idly.

Dean shrugs, “We’ll hafta see if one of the other rooms is bigger, this one only fits this bed pretty much.”  He reaches up and tilts Cas’s head down toward him, kissing him.  “What d’you think, Cas? Bigger room, bigger bed?”

Cas kisses Dean back and sits up, “This room and bed should be adequate for your needs at this time.”

“Hey—I want in on that,” Meg cups Cas’s jaw in her hand, much more carefully than she’d grabbed Dean’s he can’t help but note, and kisses him.

“We could sleep together without actually fucking, if you wanted,” Dean offers to Cas, “The three of us.  But we _would_ need a bigger bed to do it all the time.”

Meg nods, “Might be fun.”

“Oh, I hadn’t considered that,” Cas says, settling lower on the bed between them.  He steals Dean’s cigarette, takes a drag and stubs it out before snapping the ashtray away.  “It could be fun.” Meg stretches until something cracks in her back and Dean rolls onto his side, manhandling Cas as he goes.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he says decisively. Meg lets Cas drape an arm over her waist and presses herself against him.

“We’re gonna have to get you into less clothes,” she mutters, “A full set of pyjamas, Cas? Really?” Dean snorts a laugh into Cas’s hair and kisses the nape of his neck.

“I _like_ bees,” Cas replies defensively.

“’Course ya do.  He likes bees Meg,” Dean agrees and reaches over, fingers inching toward Meg’s ass.

Her hand shoots back and grips Dean’s wrist until his bones shift, “Pinch me and die, Winchester.” Cas gently pulls them apart and sets Meg’s hand one way and Dean’s the other.

“Oh! Sam and I found some very useful and informative sites with information regarding my asexuality and panromantic tendencies,” Cas remembers.

Dean rolls his eyes and drops his arm across Cas, brushing his hand against Meg’s arm, “Remind me to wax the Impala two towns over t’morrow,” he mutters.

“Only if I can come with,” Meg laughs, leaning back toward Dean’s hand.


End file.
